“Lo, Melanippus! lo, where Dolops lies; And is it thus our royal kinsman dies? O’ermatch’d he falls; to two at once a prey, And lo! they bear the bloody arms away! Come on—a distant war no longer wage, But hand to hand thy country’s foes engage: Till Greece at once, and all her glory end; Or Ilion from her towery height descend, Heaved from the lowest stone; and bury all In one sad sepulchre, one common fall.”